


toe to toe

by snugglepup



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Compliant, Conversations, Gen, Hemospectrum, Prophecy, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugglepup/pseuds/snugglepup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is my duty to bring this world to the brink of ruin, time and time again. The lives I take are merely catalysts to this end, the small stones that lie beneath the river and divert the flow of time."</p><p>"For someone who's supposed to be a monster, you don't sound too happy about that, either, whatever it means," you say. Her shoulders and thorax hitch and then roll as she lets out a short, bitter laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	toe to toe

_and one day you will go toe to toe like david and goliath_

_they will be goliath, and you will throw the stone_

_i don't know, yeah i don't know, said the man with all of the answers_

_if he don't have the answers, then how will i ever know?_

_streetlight manifesto - toe to toe_

* * *

 

 

You meet her for the first of only two times when you're six sweeps old. It's not long after one of your most intense visions yet, and despite how much hope they bring you, this one left you with a bitch of a headache. Porrim's left your hidden hive to try to bring back some painkillers; you told her it wasn't a big deal but she insisted. She's resourceful, though, and obviously not an idiot seeing as she's somehow kept you alive all of this time, so you're guessing she'll manage to make the trip into more than just that.

The hive is small but cozy and not only do you hope some fresh air will do you good, you've been drinking a lot to try to overwhelm the headache with anti-dehydration measures just in case, which means you're starting to have to piss and if you're leaving the hive then that's just that much less piss in the septic system, which means there's that much less time before Porrim has to go dump the thing out. Maybe it's gross and a tiny thing, but tiny things are all you've been able to repay her with, so you do them, whatever they might be, any chance that you get.

She thought that this would make a good hiding place, because who would have the audacity to actually inhabit a hive so close to the sea? Hiding in the open, she called it, and it's worked perfectly so far. Sitting on an empty stretch of beach and gazing at the aftermidnight sky, the moons and stars glittering above and all across the water, you close your eyes and take in a deep breath of salty ocean air. You're no seadweller, obviously, but do you really have to be to appreciate basic aspects of nature?

It's when you open your eyes again and see something flickering at the edge of your peripheral vision that you realize that all of a sudden you're not the only one watching the slow roll of waves on the shore, in and out, pulsing, the lifeblood of the planet. You turn your head only to discover that a myth is, in fact, reality. She's not exactly the way all of the stories described her; she's an adult, but not a particularly large one, and her huge curved horns are pretty fucking impressive, jutting out in front of and to either side of what seems to be long black hair done up in a tidy bun that's partially held together by two small sticks or rods. You'd expect the very left hand of Death to be hateful or at least dispassionate, but she looks at you with a weary sorrow written across her face. The entirety of her eyes are without pupil, iris, or sclera; instead, they are rapidly flashing in a rainbow of luminescent color. You're pretty sure you see every single one on the spectrum pass by... even one that isn't on the spectrum, and more besides. Those eyes are surrounded by elegant and spiny burgundy make-up, and her lips are painted the same way. She just stares, waiting for you to break the silence.

"Why are you so sad? It's your job to take those whose lives are ending, isn't it? So how come you look like you've been grieving for a hell of a long time?"

She seems taken aback. Whatever she expected from you, it apparently wasn't that. Maybe most of the others who literally meet Death react in a different way. That'd make sense, seeing as you're not very much like other trolls.

"No," she says, and her voice is unexpectedly quiet and gentle. "It is my duty to bring this world to the brink of ruin, time and time again. The lives I take are merely catalysts to this end, the small stones that lie beneath the river and divert the flow of time."

"For someone who's supposed to be a monster, you don't sound too happy about that, either, whatever it means," you say. Her shoulders and thorax hitch and then roll as she lets out a short, bitter laugh. Despite the fact that she's supposed to be a monster, not to mention that she came here to kill you, that you're about to die at her hands, you feel a disturbingly pale urge to stroke her cheek, to tell her that bitterness will do her no good. No, what's more disturbing is that you're not really disturbed, you only think you should be. You've begun to wonder if you might actually seriously be pale for every single troll in existence. You certainly pity your race enough for it to make sense.

"My happiness is of no concern. I may walk the aeons of this world without restriction, and yet a slave to time I remain, as well as to the Lord who governs it." Neither of you says anything else for a short while as you work on processing whatever the fuck that means and she simply goes back to watching the ocean, a terrible loneliness hanging off her like the bleakest of shrouds.

"So, why haven't you killed me yet? If I'm one of those stones, that must be why you're here. What's the point of wasting time in idle conversation with a child you're about to kill?" She smiles at you in a way that almost reminds you of the way Porrim looks when she thinks you're not old enough to understand something, and when she's quiet again and you don't have the distraction, you remember Porrim and begin to cry.

"Does death frighten you, child? A moment ago you looked me in the eyes without a hint of fear. You may even be the only troll of the scant thousands who have seen me to react in such a fashion." You curse under your breath and wipe tracks of red from your cheeks and blurred eyes. Of course Death wouldn't understand that there's more to dying than just ceasing to exist, that the living are caught up in the darkness as well.

"Porrim," you say. She stares blankly. "Porrim Maryam. She takes... she took care of me, saved me from culling. She'll be so alone." For the second time the Handmaid, the incarnation of death, looks at you as though you've said something entirely stunning. "I don't figure the living are your concern, but... if by any chance you happen to grant dying wishes, tell her... tell her I'm sorry that I left her alone. Make it a clean kill so she won't stumble on the savaged gory ruin of her life's work. It could break her, and I already owed her so much more than I could ever have repaid." She starts to laugh again and you glare at her. "Hey, fuck you. I'm allowed to care about other trolls if I want to." She puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, not painfully so much as reassuringly. It's honestly a little bit pale, but you don't mind. You think maybe this whole world could stand to be a bit paler toward each other.

"Faced with your people's cruel and relentless mythological figure of chaos and death, with your own death, your only concern is its impact on the emotions of another." Her eyes turn down. "Yes, he was certainly right about you. Of course he was. He is not a betting man, after all."

"Right about what? Who's right about me?" But before there's a chance for her to answer, something slithers from the water. It takes you a moment, still clearing your sight as best you can, to realize that it's a seadweller with a vicious-looking hunting spear. His eyes are on you until he sees her and they fill with utter, disbelieving terror. You look from him to the Handmaid and see that suddenly her arms and hands are surrounded by the same flashing colors that make up her eyes. She reaches up and removes one of two small but finely carved wooden rods from the tidy bun that makes up much of her hair. She raises it and points it at the seadweller and you have just enough time to see a blistering ray of rainbow light burst forth from the rod before instinct forces you to close your eyes against the overwhelming radiance. When you open them again the seadweller lies headless in a puddle of rapidly pooling violet.

"You assumed that I came here to end your life," she says, "but you are young and arrogant and so your conclusion was incorrect. I came to remove a stone, and that is all. Young Sufferer, your life is something entirely different. You bring the illusion of hope to a world that was damned from the moment of its creation, hope that means nothing in this universe, marked as it is for annihilation. What is your name?" You force yourself to look away from the horrible sight out there on the sand. After a few seconds of thought, you answer.

"Kankri," you say. "Kankri Vantas. I don't believe that hope means nothing. My visions alone show me that." You give her a moment to respond, and when she doesn't, just sits there and waits, you continue. "He was going to kill me, wasn't he? And what do you mean by calling me Sufferer?" The ocean continues to beat before you, the vast bloodpusher of Alternia.

When you turn again to watch for her answer, she is already gone.

 

* * *

 

You meet him for the the second and last time the night before he will die. He is alone in a prison cell, gone days without food and nearly as long without water. When he doesn't react to your abrupt manifestation, you wonder if perhaps he is unconscious and your jaunt through the alpha timeline was slightly off-target. Then he stirs in the many chains that bind him to the wall and the floor, and when he sees you he chuckles. The chuckle grows into a laugh that echoes against cold stone walls.

"Wondered where the fuck you've been all this time," he says. "I'm pretty sure I should've been dead a long time ago." This time he is afraid, and you wonder if it is on his own behalf or, as with his younger self, if it is on the behalf of others.

"Kankri," you say, and he seems surprised that you remember his name. He does not realize that what was for him the span of his lifetime was, to you, less than five minutes. "You will die tomorrow night. They will burn and bleed you and you will die hearing the endless mockery and propaganda of your Empress and those who serve her."

"Wow, no shit. You don't need to be the incarnation of Death to figure that one out." You snort in a way unbecoming of your polite upbringing, then flicker away and back again in a quarter of a second with a glass of water, from which you let him drink. "Why are you helping me? It's your job to kill me, isn't it?" He pauses. "No, it's bigger than that. I think I remember what you said when I was six. You said something about bringing the world to ruin, before you did the job you really came there for."

"I brought your world to the brink of ruin the moment I destroyed the man who would have killed you that night," you say. "He was merely an obstruction to your continued existence, the short but powerful life of one who sees beyond blood, beyond even time and the boundaries of universes long dead and gone." When you return home you will pay for what you have said, even though it will have no effect whatsoever on the events to come. You could not care less, for the pain will be only the prelude to obtaining that which you seek above all else.

"Then I'm the one," he says. "It's me. All I wanted was for everyone to calm the fuck down and stop killing each other and being idiots about colors. How can that be wrong? How did it go so wrong?" He rattles his chains in frustration and you nearly wince thinking of what will bind him tomorrow night, the pain he will endure.

"You accomplished your mission admirably," you say, hating yourself more with every word. "All you had to do was survive and live life as yourself, without betraying your beliefs. The lowbloods rose up. Blood beyond measure was shed and will continue to be, even after your death. You will not live to see it, but this world will change more as a result of your life and execution than by any other."

"What the fuck did I do that was so special, other than get a lot of innocent trolls killed trying to preach peace and harmony and all that shit?" The seeds of anger are beginning to grow in him, waiting to erupt into the rage of tomorrow night's final sermon, which you have already viewed, hidden in the audience. For some reason, after visiting him as a child, you felt that you owed him that much.

"There are many sorts of stones in the river of time," you say. "They alter the course of history in ways that my Lord does not desire. But you, young Sufferer, you are a boulder to be thrown into the water, to force its entirety in a single direction. The impact of your life and of your death cannot be measured. Do you know that you will not truly die because you are hated, but because you are feared? It is no small feat to strike fear into the heart of the Empress." He laughs again, long and hard until he's wheezing. You give him another sip of water, enough to help him without risking him throwing it up again.

"All I've done is spread pain," he says, and the bitterness in his voice is difficult even for you to bear. If only you did not understand how he must feel so very, very well. "My teachings will be destroyed. Alternia will never be what it could have been. Porrim and Meulin are probably going to die in agony. My only legacy is tens of thousands of deaths that will be forgotten within a sweep, if even that long."

You sit in front of him and feel something you haven't in a very long time as a few tears well up in your long-accursed eyes.

"Your legacy will carry on," you tell him, because there can be no further punishment that the man on the moon can bestow upon you now that holds any meaning. What awaits you when you return to the green moon this time, what matters, is receiving your first and only reward. "They will suffer greatly, but they will live for some time yet. Your Disciple will record what she can of your words. In the future, even until the very death of this planet, your followers will remain, and in secret they will bear your sign."

"Why are you crying?", he asks, and you wonder, yet again, at the selflessness of the young man fated to die screaming in helpless rage and sorrow.

"When I return from seeing you this night," you say, "an errand which I was not assigned by my Lord or his second greatest servant, I will be killed." He laughs without malice.

"Death herself, afraid to die," he says. "This world is truly cursed, isn't it?"

"My Lord is here," you say, "and so Alternia is accursed far beyond the limits of your imagination. But I do not cry for fear. I cry for joy, because at last the reward for my service is at hand. When I return to the green moon I will be killed and released from my duties, from my own long and thankless enslavement."

"You're burgundy," he giggles, high and almost hysterical. "The Handmaid is of the color of blood most reviled apart from my own. What a ridiculous joke this goddamned life's turned out to be."

"My time here must come to an end," you say, and he laughs again. "But there is one last thing you should know. A small comfort, but it is the best that I can give you."

"Yeah? And that would be?" He's skeptical of course, but who wouldn't be? You tell him the only thing that matters, here and now.

"Your descendant is a strong child," and his eyes widen in shock. Apparently he never imagined himself as having a descendant, despite his involvement with his Disciple. "He will not be born for many sweeps, not until the very cusp of the end of this world, but he will wear your sign. This universe cannot be saved, but he shall be a leader of trolls, an angry and compassionate boy, and though I have not the time to explain how or why, his guidance will lead his friends and himself to create a new world, a new universe. A universe where strife exists but does not rule, where peace is sought and valued."

"They call me also the Signless," he says, "and yet you tell me that there will be those who bear my own. Will they, then, be as hopeless and blank as me?"

"No," you say, "the sign they wear will be the sign of your punishment and your death. It is the mark of the shackles that will sear your flesh and bind you finally and truly to await your death. You will never be forgotten, Seer of Blood, and your pain will change more than you could ever believe."

"One last night," he says. "One last night before I die. Even I didn't really believe it would ever happen. Probably no one does." He looks thoughtful for a short while, then back at you, eyes locked with your own, not shying away from the tears that you yourself have too much dignity to bother hiding. "I think I remember you saying this world was damned, but you don't sound like you believe it yourself. I think you're more like me than you know, no matter what cruel Lord you serve. If only I could see him, this descendant you claim will exist. See with my own eyes that the lives lost to my ideals served some purpose."

"Were it in my power to show you, I would." He is a strange and magnificent sight, beaten, bloodied, weighed down by countless chains, and yet somehow the force of his passion makes him look not a troll condemned but a Lord in his own right, the master of some primal force governed by love instead of cold and merciless death.

"You're afraid to die, even though you say it's your reward," he says. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how you must feel." You find yourself laughing long and hard. Even now he cares more for the fates of others than for his own. He cares even for the feelings and life of a monster, of a loveless, heartless servant of death. "I know you're about to disappear. I can feel it, like there's something gathering in the air around you. So I have one last thing to ask, before we part."

"I will answer if I can," you say, and wish you could do better.

"What's your real name? Not your title, not Handmaid or Demon, but your name."

You have absolutely no idea how you should feel and so it comes as a surprise to you both when you lean forward and wrap your arms around him briefly, taking care to keep your voice low with your mouth so close to one of his aural canals.

"Damara," you say, and the word is almost foreign to you, feeling strange on your tongue. "Damara Megido." He raises a hand slowly, struggling against chains, and when you take it in yours, he shakes.

"I'm glad I met you, Damara," he says, and you know he must see the strange, melancholy happiness of hearing your name spoken by another, by anyone at all. For so long you have been nothing but the Handmaid, the Demon, Death.

"And I you. I am sorry for you, for all of you. For what your universe has suffered and will suffer. But it seems your ideals mean more even than you ever realized." He merely shrugs, then closes his eyes to await the end.

"Goodbye, Damara Megido," he says.

"Goodbye, Kankri Vantas," you say, and blink away to fulfill your destiny.

 

* * *

 

_someday i will find you and stop on by_

_and you'll say how've you been, and i'll say i've been fine_

_we will both know that it's a lie_

_turns out what i figured out is i was wrong and you were right_

_streetlight manifesto - toe to toe_


End file.
